However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. It’s well hidden, miss. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. In fact, it would not surprise me to discover that they were both Leonardo’s.
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